


Housewarming

by TheonSugden



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6302242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonSugden/pseuds/TheonSugden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the gap between 6.09 and 6.10 - friends and neighbors celebrate Tara and Denise moving in together. Tara reflects on her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Housewarming

“Carol casserole.” 

Aaron snatched the dish from Eric’s outstretched hands, setting it on the nearby table. 

“For God’s sake, you make it sound like we put Carol _in_ the casserole.”

Eric kissed his boyfriend’s smooth cheek, willing the sourness away.

“He’s feeling extra grumpy today. He’d never take the Lord’s name in vain otherwise…well, not _most_ of the time,” Eric grinned, knowingly, Aaron blushing in response.

Tara knew why he was unhappy - they were having a party when so many people, so many good people, had been slaughtered, some of them in this very house.

She felt the same way herself, but she knew you had to go on. She’d learned more in the last year than she’d ever wanted to know, but above all else she had learned to go on. For yourself and for the people who can’t. 

Tara watched Denise nervously staring at the tablecloth, and the drops of blood still washed into the white fabric. 

She knew Denise was just going along with the party for her. She didn’t want to tell her that she wasn’t big on parties herself - before…before the world went to shit, she was the type to stand in the back with the bros, swigging beers and scoping out babes who’d never look at her twice. 

The world had ended, and she was one of the few to make it. She’d made it again and again - more times than she’d deserved. She was doing this for the people who’d saved her, and for herself too, because she was moving in with her girlfriend, and every day she was a little more sure she’d fallen in love. 

“I got you this,” Eugene announced, handing her a battered gift box with part of the bottom chewed away by a starving walker.

Tara opened it, remembering how she’d felt on birthdays and Christmases - trying to be chill, but so excited she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. 

“It’s a - it’s a shirt.” 

A flannel shirt, red and white. Almost like the tablecloth.

“Got it from him,” Eugene muttered, thumb pointing at a mentally far away Aaron.

“You do love your plaids,” Eric smiled.

He wasn’t a big hugging person, but Tara couldn’t stop herself.

“Thank you, Eugene,” she said, sincerely, to the man who had saved her life. 

He turned to Denise.

“Dr. Cloyd…I didn’t get you anything, because as far as I’m concerned, you have found the greatest gift that is humanly possible to find on this good earth.” 

Tara shook her head in embarrassment, but the sweet, smug smile on Denise’s face pleased her.

“And I have it on good authority that Denise is the closest fascimile to myself that can be found in female form, so I literally can’t choose a better person…besides myself.”

Tara rolled her eyes as the rest of the group, minus a bewildered Denise, laughed nervously.

“ _Thank you_ , Eugene,” she replied, knowing he’d ignore the sarcasm.

After Rosita was done shooting daggers at her friend, she gave Tara, then Denise, hugs. Big hugs. Hugs that said more than the guarded Rosita might have said in words. 

“I love you,” Rosita whispered in her ear. Tara loved her too - in ways Rosita would never know. Sometimes, like the moment where Rosita caught her eyes after pulling away, she wondered if Rosita did know.

“This is from me…and Abraham.”

The simple paper wrapping revealed a 45 rpm single…a record older than anyone in the room, but in better shape than the group combined. 

“ _The In Crowd_ ,” Tara said, softly, wondrously. “You remembered.” 

She’d told Rosita. She’d told Rosita everything.

“I remembered.”

Her dad’s favorite song. She could still see him listening to it on the rare nights after work that he was able to manage anything beyond passing out from exhaustion.

“Deanna’s husband,” Abraham said, gruffly, picking at his beard. “Spencer said he didn’t want it. Course if he’d said no, I would have taken more aggressive actions.”

Tara laughed, and Rosita gave him a light shove of annoyance.

“Let’s go finish whatever dip I can’t see dangling from your chin.”

Denise pulled Tara into the hallway.

“Was I supposed to make more dip?”

Tara still couldn’t believe she was having this type of conversation. Even before…before, her girlfriends were more likely to yell at her about leaving her underwear on the floor.

“They can bring their own next time,” she encouraged Denise, kissing her.

The next knock meant Glenn and Maggie at the front door, 

Glenn looked askance at the BYOW sign.

“Bring your own walkers,” Maggie said, a soft smile on her lips.

Tara turned pale as she realized Glenn, with his many near-death experiences, was the last person to laugh at that joke. 

“C’mere,” he said, grabbing her for a big hug when he saw her horrified expression. “You’re a big dork. That’s what I love about you.”

Tara pretended to punch his stomach.

“Oh yeah…’cos you’re _so_ cool.”

“I am,” he defended, mock-huffily, as Maggie stood behind him, mouthing “no” and putting bunny ears over his head. 

“I see you,” he teased, lovingly, leaning over to kiss her temple. 

Tara had always wanted something like that for herself…and now she had it. She wasn’t entirely sure - if it was too fast, if it was just a reaction to the terror and fear of their daily lives - but she didn’t care. She _couldn’t_ care. Denise was wonderful and beautiful and funny and kind and smart. Too good for her, really.

When Glenn extended his hand, she knew, somehow, that it was to press to Maggie’s stomach. She flashed back to Lilly and how Lilly had hated strangers on the street putting their hands on her belly like she was personally brooding their sire. 

“It’s fine,” Maggie assured her, eyes shining with tears. 

She thought she felt the baby moving, unless lack of food in Alexandria had left Maggie to eat jumping beans. 

She still remembered the feel of Meghan in her sister’s stomach. How proud she’d been to be an aunt. To be able to show the family that she could be good - could be the best aunt ever.

Glenn wiped a few tears from his eyes. 

“I can’t wait to tell him about his Auntie Tara…”

Tara smiled, forcing her own tears in, because she was going to ugly cry otherwise.

“And his Uncle Noah.” 

Glenn bit his lip and looked down at the ground. 

“I miss him,” she said, voice breaking.

“He’s with Bethy now…Bethy and Daddy,” Maggie promised. 

Tara wanted to believe her - wanted to know the people who’d suffered and died were together again, happy. She just never knew. She couldn’t convince herself.

Tonight, she would try. 

“I love you,” Maggie said, quietly, as Glenn pulled Tara into a rib-cracking hug.

After everyone finally left to check the various guard posts before climbing in their beds, it was just Tara and Denise. She hoped Denise was feeling a bit frisky…what a weird, stupid thing to call it. She was her father’s daughter, and proud of it. 

She’d expected Denise to be by the window, reading from that piece of shit Pete Anderson’s medical books, but instead Denise had her hands behind her back.

“The answer’s yes,” Tara joked, feebly. “Either that or, ‘put down that knife.’” 

The joking stopped when Denise handed her a can of soda.

“I-I remembered,” Denise said, nervously. 

Tara pressed the lukewarm aluminum into her hand, disbelieving.

“I got these for…for Meghan. Lilly told me no, it’d rot her teeth. It was our secret.” 

“I wish I’d known them,” Denise said, Tara resting her head on her broad shoulder.

“They would’ve loved you…” Tara promised. “Almost as much as I do.” 

Denise let Tara take off her glasses, wipe away her tears.

“You’re the first person who’s ever…” Denise said, too tired and happy to hide her happiness and surprise. “I love you too.”

Tara’s heart swelled, but some part of her wondered if she’d be the last. If she…if she died, would Denise make it without her.

Tonight wasn’t for maudlin shit. They had every day for the rest of their lives for that.

“C’mon, mama - lemme show you how sexy I look in my flannel shirt.” 

Denise kissed her, hard and passionate, but as she pulled away and began heading upstairs, she had one friendly, flustered, and slightly annoyed request.

“Don’t call me ‘mama’ ever again.”

Tara smirked coyly…if that was possible 

“OK…but what _should_ I call you?”

Denise didn’t respond, instead just holding Tara’s hand tight as they made their way to the bedroom.

She hoped she’d have a long time to find out.


End file.
